Playing with the Food
by saxanet12
Summary: It may be a dog-eat dog world. But in what sort of world do you eat children? Based on Johnathan Swift's "A Modest Proposal".


**Prologue: Playing with the Food  
**

**(Don't judge too harshly; this is literally version 0.0, so…)**

**The song I picked for this chapter is "Zombie" by the Cranberries.**

**I don't own "A Modest Proposal"**

It was a chilly, dark evening when Mr. and Mrs. Green walked into the dimly lit building labelled "Orphanage".

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Mrs. Green asked uncertainly, "This is our first time, and I'm not sure I want to do this anymore,"

Mr. Green brushed her off, "It's not a big deal, Andrea. People do this all the time. It's easy." He walked towards the door purposefully and flung open the door. A bell chimed, and a small, curly haired assistant looked up from behind a magazine titled "Heart- Healthy Cooking".

"Oh, you must be Mr. and Mrs. Green", she said, stepping out from behind a counter, "I've been expecting you. Are you ready to see Graham?"

She pointed at the last crib behind her. A baby, no more than two years old, stared back, drool dribbling down his cheek.

He had been appropriately named. His hair was golden, the color of a graham cracker, his skin was as white as marshmallows, and his tiny eyes were a delicious chocolaty brown. When the three adults looked at him, Mrs. Green felt some more guilt wash over her.

She gripped her husband's arm. "He's cute, but I don't think he's right for our family." She told the assistant.

Mr. Green stared at her, astonished. "Andrea, are you crazy? We've waited forever for this boy! We're taking him!" He looked at the assistant. "Where do I sign?"

And Andrea Green found herself carrying the cooing baby back home, his bright brown eyes trained on her face and his mischievous grin growing wider by the second. Suddenly, he turned, and he pointed at the moon, which had come out early that night.

"Cheese! Cheese!" he called, trying to grab the moon with his chubby hands, failing miserably, of course.

"That's not cheese, sweetie," Mrs. Green told him, "That's the moon. It doesn't taste good."

Mr. Green turned, and said angrily, "Will you two stop? It's almost dinnertime? I'm starving. Walk faster."

In five minutes, they reached home, and Mrs. Green put Baby Graham in a new crib in the nursery that the Greens had created two weeks ago. "There, sweetie pie, you just stay right there. I'll come and get you in a half an hour."

Graham was not happy that she was leaving. His chubby arms gripped the bars of his crib, and his face crumpled slowly. He began bawling loudly.

Mrs. Green rubbed his back. "No, no, sweetie. Don't cry. It'll be okay."

Graham kept bawling.

Mrs. Green continued rubbing his back and patted his head awkwardly. She kissed the top of his head. "Don't worry, sweetie, I'll be back in a half an hour."

Graham stopped crying, remnant tears trailing down his cheeks. His breaths were short and raspy, but he was otherwise quiet.

"There you go, sweetie. You are so cute when you don't cry! In fact, you are so adorable, I could just _eat you up_!" She grinned and tapped his cheek with her finger, before she closed the door and headed to the dining room.

Mr. Green was waiting at a table set with two salad plates. Mrs. Green sat across from him, not saying a word. She looked down at her salad plate, realizing she had lost her appetite. She pushed her lettuce across her plate with her fork, unwilling to eat anything.

"You know," Mr. Green said, looking at her pointedly. "I wish you wouldn't play with the food."

Meanwhile, Baby Graham was sitting quietly in his crib when he began to sweat profusely. He wiped his brow and looked around. He stood up using the bars of his crib, but yelped quickly.

His once safe steel-barred crib was now scalding hot. Graham began to cry quietly. The air was getting hotter and hotter in the nursery, and his pale white skin was beginning to brown.

He began to bawl loudly. He was dizzy, and couldn't breathe. His screams got louder and louder, then quieter and quieter and further and further between until they stopped entirely, replaced by an eerie silence.

A loud ding went off, and Mrs. Green stood up and looked at her husband.

"Dinner is served."

**Please comment and favorite! Thanks!**

**Also, I will get back to updating "Best Fish" as soon as possible; I just really wanted to publish this….**


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